


A Promise to Keep

by anonymous_huxely



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Confessional Kisses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I need my angst glasses cause I can't tell if it is, Kissing, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 22:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16207079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_huxely/pseuds/anonymous_huxely
Summary: Connor visits you in your hospital room to make amends after getting you shot.





	A Promise to Keep

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested anonymously on tumblr. Here is the original post: https://muse-of-nightmares.tumblr.com/post/177709783046/a-promise-to-keep  
> If you have a request for a one shot you can submit it to my tumblr blog @muse-of-nightmares : https://muse-of-nightmares.tumblr.com/

You knew where you were before you opened your eyes.

It was unfamiliar at first; the unpleasant sounds and scents bled into your consciousness while your memories had yet to surface.

Though it all came back to you in bits and pieces.

The first thing you felt was the cold. The sanitary and clinical kind that came from lying on a steel table in an operating room was unshakable in your sleep. Your fingers curled, burying themselves in soft, gauzy cotton.

Next there was the smell. The nauseating chemical scent of disinfectant and medicine mixed with a faint trace of pollen cloyed the air. Your nostrils tingled from the stench of chlorophenol and your face pressed into a crisp pillow to escape the strength of it.

Then you began to register the noises around you. The ambient hum of machines nearby provided the final clue as to where you were.

Of all of this, it was the sensation of someone watching over you that finally compelled your eyes to open. Light crept into your vision as your eyelids faltered in lifting open, the darkness of your dreams fading as you took in the room around you.

A pale blue blanket covered your prone body and your hands rested over the fold. The room was dark, save for the glow of the city creeping in from the drawn curtains. Art prints meant to inspire health and optimism decorated the white walls of your hospital room and an assortment of flower bouquets brightened your bedside table. Mandarin orange tiger lilies, buttery yellow sunflowers, and periwinkle irises perfumed the air. The parchment notes stuck between their green stalks read “ _Get well soon!_ ” in generic, greeting card cursive. Your lips curved slightly upon seeing your coworkers’ thoughtfulness.

You slipped off the pulse oximeter clipping the top of your middle finger. The crook of your arm itched from the presence of a bandage, presumably covering the site of a needle puncture. You groaned from the stiffness in your neck, your upper lip curling at all of the aches manifesting in your body as you tried to move. 

A figure braced their slender hands on the windowsill that overlooked the skyline of Detroit. At the sound of your waking, he straightened. You recognized the opalescent turquoise armband and triangle on his gray jacket and winced.

 _Connor_.

Normally, the sight—even the _thought_ —of him brought a small smile to your face. One you quickly tempered, lest anyone see. He was your partner and an Android—who did not impress you in the slightest at first. He was cold, efficient, and for all intents and purposes, perfect. The peak of Cyberlife engineering. Working with him had taken some adjusting, but, after a while, you warmed up to him. Or rather, he warmed up to _you_. His rigid posture had loosened up, earning you playful nudges with his elbow when he noticed you were a little down. As the investigation went on, things weren’t so black and white anymore. Your initial assumptions about deviants were increasingly proved wrong. You noticed this begin to bother Connor. Especially when he failed. He began to make decisions based on intuition rather than procedure. He defended your decisions to Captain Fowler. He saved your life twice.

Deep down, you knew that these symptoms were dangerous. More than any of that…

He began to make you wonder.

All of that changed in an instant. And now you wanted nothing to do with him. Because Connor didn’t fail his mission. He failed you. You were lying in the hospital with a gunshot wound to prove it.

This was not a conversation you ever wanted to have with him, but you had to get it over with.

You cleared your throat, hoping your first words wouldn’t come out dry and cracked.

“I hate this place.” You rasped.

This was true. If you were in the hospital, it meant either you or someone close to you was hurt. No joyous occasion ever brought you here. Being here meant you had either done your job very well and had a promotion waiting at the end of your sick leave, or had done your job very poorly and failed in your investigation.

“The last time I was here, I lost someone.” You added absentmindedly. The world outside lured your eyes away from the memory of being in a room just like this one. Connor stood before the sunset, his pale, freckled complexion bathed in a violet hue. Gray storm clouds drifted on the horizon, reflecting darkly in the glassy surface of his contemplative eyes.

“This was my fault.” His head dropped below his shoulders, the movement making his tie dip lower.

Neither of you could have expected everything to go so wrong. You were always prepared for the worst, but then again you also counted on your partner to have your back.

He had gotten a report of a suspected deviant hideout and you decided to investigate it. The abandoned sewing factory seemed empty and you thought it would be a dead end.

Of course it wasn’t.

The next thing you knew, Connor was pursuing the suspect and your service weapon was lost somewhere after you were slammed into a wall. Your head was bleeding from the impact and that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was when Connor caught up to you and had a decision to make. Pursue the suspect or listen to you. 

_“Connor, wait! There might be more…”_ His mouth tightened as he looked over his shoulder at you. You saw the moment when Connor chose to leave you there, bleeding and on your hands and knees in rubble, and it hurt more than the gunshot. When he left to chase the WB200, another deviant rushed by, saw you and spotted your gun. You had raised your hands in surrender, but…

The echo of a gunshot punctuated the memory, followed by the scream you released as the bullet tore through your shoulder. The crimson fluid streamed out from between your fingers as you clamped your hand around the wound desperately.

“I should’ve listened to you.” Connor said now, muttering and shaking his head. “It wasn’t worth it.” He whispered to himself.

Those words meant nothing to you.

It was a cold betrayal. Then again, why did you expect him to choose you over his initial task? How could you believe he was capable of choosing anything but his mission? You cursed yourself inwardly at how foolish you had been. You’d grown too attached to him after all these weeks working together on the deviancy case. Truthfully, you were angrier with yourself than him. You were so blinded by how human he seemed at times that you allowed yourself to forget he wasn’t one.

But still… “Why are you here, Connor?” You sighed from exhaustion, pinching the bridge of your nose at the arrival of an oncoming headache. “You know you’re the last machine I want to talk to right now.” His eyes shuttered at your sardonic tone, not missing the insult you reserved for him.

He didn’t speak, didn’t even look at you. All was silent until the rain started to drizzle outside. Connor smoothed a white petal from the orchid plant on the sill between his fingers.

Wordlessly, you shoved your blankets aside and dropped your feet to the cold floor. He glanced over at the movement and he looked like he was about to protest as you made your way over to him, but your angry words were faster.

“If you came here to give some bullshit subroutine apology, I’m going to have you escorted out because I don’t want to hear it.” You looked up your nose at him. Uncertainty lingered in his eyes as you met his downward gaze. 

“Please,” He reached for your hand and you recoiled, making his gaze momentarily drop to the floor tiles. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a moment to regather himself before meeting your glare. “Listen to what I have to say first.”

The softness of his voice and the sadness in his pleading eyes made you pause, just for a moment.

“Why should I?” Your voice wavered as your throat grew tight, the dangerous edge of incoming tears dripping off your words. “You _left_ me! Bleeding on the ground! You’ve made it perfectly clear what your priorities are!”

The tears fell freely now, hot and full of anguish. You looked away from him because it was too much, _he_ was too much. You didn’t want to think anything of how broken and despaired he looked. His drawn brows, his lips struggling to form the right words, his hands reaching for you, you told yourself over and over that he was a machine. It didn’t help that he only stepped closer when you withdrew. You wanted to disappear, to sink back into the blissful dark depths of sleep where none of your emotions existed and tormented you. To retreat into the sanctuary of your dreams where your Connor didn’t leave you like everyone else did. 

Connor tried to explain. “If I returned to Amanda empty-handed again—“

You cut him off with a scoff. “I shouldn’t even be mad at you. _I_ was the one with false hopes, _I_ was the one who believed you had the propensity for compassion and sincerity. _I_ let myself _think_ …” You bit down on your knuckles to stop any more words from coming out. Tears clumped your eyelashes together and your shoulders started to shake. God, how could you be so stupid? How could you keep lying to yourself about how much he mattered to you?

“You just…left me there, Connor. Like I didn’t matter to you at all. I would never do that to you.” You confessed.

“That’s not what happened,“ Connor pleaded your name. "I felt—“

That choice word was what finally made you hiss and spit your venomous words. “You felt? You don’t _feel_ anything! Everything about you is fake! Everything that ever happened between us wasn’t real, and I must’ve imagined all of it because now I know you don’t give a shit about me,”—a sob broke your sentence apart—“you _never_ —“

Connor didn't let you finish.

All of your words and all of your anger melted as he effectively silenced you with his kiss. Before you could blink, before you could finish speaking, his hands had rose up to cup your cheeks and tip your jaw to create the perfect angle for your mouths to slot together. And when that distance between you started to disappear, you finally came to understand a few things.

The first thing you knew was that you were wrong.

You knew this because Connor’s eyes didn’t close until your lips touched. And before they did, you saw in them how utterly lost he was–lost in you. Against all odds and reason, you slid your hand along the nape of his neck, your fingertips seeking to find out if his hair was as soft as you imagined.

It was.

The second thing you knew was that you would never be the same.

He kissed you once, slow and still. Butterflies fluttered inside of you at the soft warmth of his mouth against yours. Connor smeared away the tears staining your cheeks with a sweep of his thumb, but now they were falling for a different reason. The tips of your noses bumped and your lashes grazed from your closeness. The rain, quiet and gentle, pattered against the window behind you and melded with the shameless whimper that came from the back of your throat.

He kissed you twice, deeply, coaxing more of that pleased sound from you with the gentle pull of his lips and the slow crawl of his fingers in your hair while his other hand smoothed around the curve of your waist.

The third time, you brought his mouth back to yours with a sigh, needing him once more to mend the hurt in your soul. He made a soft noise in response, indulging in the longing you both shared, hands moving along your body with the grace of a bird in flight.

Connor pulled away, leaving your lips swollen and parted, and your name was a prayer beneath his breath.

“I thought I’d lost you…” His brow leaned against yours before he went on. “I was scared.” That dangerous word hung between the two of you. “I wanted to disobey my instructions when I heard you scream like that, more than anything. I…I failed you.” The memory was still too painful to think about. Instead you closed your eyes, soaked in the sensation of being this close to one another, let your thoughts dwell on the here and now as your fingers drifted through his hair. The weight of his words weren’t lost to you.

"If I don’t succeed, I’ll be replaced. I would never see you again. My memory would be wiped and I would forget your smile, your laugh, the lightness in your eyes when you do. I’d lose you completely and I _can’t._ ” His eyes squeezed shut at the thought.

His index finger curled along your jaw to capture a lock of your hair. It made you realize how seldom he had occasion for this kind of gentleness. The caress drew your eyes to his, and in that moment, you crossed the threshold of being partners to something more, something neither of you expected nor understood.

You traced over his feathery brow with a delicate hand, your lips parting with the intimacy of how real he felt, how acutely human the touch of his skin alone was. You knew Connor’s features were manufactured; however, the way his freckles dappled over the soft curves of his cheeks and faded into the coarser texture of facial hair along his jaw and neck, and the errant lock of his hair that grazed your forehead now, made him undeniably real. Your eyes crossed from looking at him so closely.

His next words came out in a whisper. “I’m not here to give you an apology. I wouldn’t know where to begin with one. I came here to make a promise.”

Your heartbeat fluttered in your chest, skipping like a hummingbird over trumpet vines.

Promises weren’t a part of programs. Machines didn’t make them. But Connor did. You believed every word he whispered next as his lips brushed them over yours.

“I will never leave you again.”

You smiled against his thumb, soaking in the twilight that streamed over your faces.

“I hope not.” You murmured.

His eyes navigated yours to see if he could kiss you again. You smiled with an unspoken agreement and leaned into the shadows of his face.

It wouldn’t be easy, him and you. There were a million obstacles already stacked against you. There were all decidedly worth it the moment you felt his thirium pump against your chest. The rhythm of his heart beating against yours was not coincidental in its similarity.

“Well, that didn’t take long.” Hank’s teasing voice from the doorway broke your nearness apart. You yelped, burying your blush in Connor’s shoulder and gripped the lapels of his jacket in shame. He didn’t push you away, instead his arms stayed faithfully around you. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and you could feel the warmth of his smile.

“Have you ever heard of _knocking_?” You groaned while keeping your face hidden. Hank only laughed at the whole situation, a humored and genuine smile lighting up his face.

“Ever heard of _bed rest?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to validate the author's existence, please leave a comment :)


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